


The Second Hand Unwinds

by fridaysblues (taemin)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2018-03-11 12:16:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3326948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemin/pseuds/fridaysblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Junmyeon's fascinated by the past, but he's more grateful for the present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Second Hand Unwinds

**December 23, 2015**

Seoul is freezing at Christmastime.

Cheongdam-dong's usually bustling, but the holiday season has brought the shoppers out in droves, bodies jostling against each other down the sidewalks, crammed into the department stores like sardines in a can. Junmyeon's always overwhelmed by the crowds at this time of year. He tries to avoid the shopping districts as much as possible, but Jongdae's position at Cartier as a bench jeweler makes it impossible to bypass altogether.

Just then, he sees him across the street: shoulders hunched against the blustery cold wind, fists buried in the deep pockets of his long, woolen overcoat. Junmyeon admires him for a moment—Jongdae's always been incredibly handsome, but there's something about the way he carries himself when he's dressed for work that makes him shine. Junmyeon steps out from behind a pair of young women, their hands full of shopping bags from Louis Vuitton and Prada.

"Jongdae!" he calls.

Jongdae swings around like he's been electrocuted, eyes wide. "Junmyeon?"

Junmyeon dashes across the road with his arms in the air, narrowly avoiding the bumper of a sleek, silver BMW. "Hey, you! Merry Christmas!"

Jongdae nods. He looks wary, eyes lingering on the loosened tie around Junmyeon's neck, peering out from underneath his half-buttoned peacoat. "You're still wearing that," he finally manages. "Wow. It's only been that long for you."

A knot forms in Junmyeon's stomach. He's finally noticing how _tired_ Jongdae looks and there are fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that weren't there the last time they were together. His face falls. _It was only supposed to be a few days._ "How long was it this time?" he asks hoarsely, gathering Jongdae into his arms. Jongdae is hesitant at first, but then he links his hands around Junmyeon's waist like he's afraid if he clings too tightly he'll only end up holding himself.

"A year," Jongdae whispers into Junmyeon's shoulder, voice breaking a little. "I thought you were never coming home."

 

**December 1, 2014**

"Junmyeon, do you _mind_?"

"Hm? Mind what?" Junmyeon looks up from the term papers he's been grading for the past hour and a half and frowns. Jongdae's glaring at him from underneath furrowed brows, mouth pressed together in a hard line.

"You're shaking the whole table. I'm going to lose one of these itty bitty diamonds and then you'll be on the hook for it."

"I can afford it." Junmyeon grins. "I know a guy." Still, he stands up to lean across the table, mouth pressing an apologetic kiss against the smooth skin of Jongdae's forehead. "Sorry. I'll move to the couch."

"Was there something you needed to tell me?" Jongdae's eyes are riveted on the pair of tweezers in his hand. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth the way it always does when he's trying to concentrate.

"Hm?" Junmyeon drops his stack of essays on the middle couch cushion. "What do you mean?"

"You only fidget when you're nervous, and you're only nervous when you have something to say that you know I'm not going to like." He places the diamond into the setting and squints at it for a moment before he looks up, a coy smile stretching from ear to ear. "Come on. Can't be that bad."

Junmyeon's heart always pounds crazily when Jongdae smiles at him like this—it's a broad, easy smile, full of gleaming white teeth that seem to _twinkle_ when he throws back his head and laughs. Jongdae is unbelievable; that is, Junmyeon cannot believe he is real, even when he's so close Junmyeon can reach out and touch him.

He doesn't this time, because it is that bad. He licks his lips. "I—they've approved my second outing."

Jongdae's smile falters a little. "When?"

"Next week. But don't worry—" Junmyeon says before Jongdae can open his mouth to speak. "I promise it'll only be a few days."

Jongdae sighs. "That's what you said last time."

"Yixing had the calibrations wrong." Junmyeon slides his hands down Jongdae's shoulders and squeezes like he's trying to infect Jongdae with his confidence. "One week. I swear. I'll be home for Christmas."

Jongdae hums a few bars of the tune and covers Junmyeon's hand with his.

Junmyeon knows he's won. Somehow, though, it doesn't feel as good as he thinks it probably should.

 

**December 23, 2015**

"What happened?" Jongdae asks.

Junmyeon's startled at how much the apartment's changed since he's been gone. For one, it's _dirtier_ —piles of dishes stacked in the sink, kitchen table dusty and untouched. The garbage can's stuffed with take-out boxes of half-eaten kimbap and ddukbokki. The fridge is bare, save for a lone can of light beer languishing at the back of the bottom shelf. Jongdae notes Junmyeon's shocked expression and coughs into his fist.

"Yeah, I'm—sorry about that, I haven't—it's been hard to find time to clean," Jongdae says quietly. "I'll take care of it."

"Don't worry." Junmyeon tries to swallow the lump in his throat. It doesn't budge. "I'll call someone. It's not a problem."

Until he'd been told how long he'd been gone, things had felt fine—normal, even. Now he's watching Jongdae toe off his shoes at the door and toss his coat onto the back of the couch and he feels like he's back in the role of _Kim Junmyeon, historian,_ his face pressed up against the glass, looking in at a life that's not his. He feels like a visitor in his own home. He doesn't know if he's still got permission to catch hold of Jongdae's hand, press a kiss against the corner of his mouth and ask him about his day. He braces his hands against the counter and bows his head. "Jongdae, I—"

"I know," he murmurs from the doorway. "I just—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to react that way. It was so long, I worried—something had _happened_ —"

"I'm not—I didn't—it really was only a couple of days," Junmyeon says, staring at his palms. "At least, for me." He looks up. "I'm sorry," he apologizes for the hundredth time.

"I told them you'd left," Jongdae confesses. "I didn't—know—what else to say when they asked where you were."

Junmyeon's throat goes dry. "Oh," he says. "Oh."

 

**August 15 2014**

"You're going to _what_?" Jongdae asks, nuzzling his face into the crook of Junmyeon's neck. They're entwined on the couch, a re-run of _Coffee Prince_ droning quietly in the background.

"Go back to 2009."

" _God_ , what an awful year." Jongdae rolls away as far as he can manage on their narrow couch. "I had a terrible bowl-cut my stylist convinced me was in and I was dating that _singer_ —"

"Well, as much as I'd like to go back and tell you to break up with Baekhyun and get a different haircut, I'm not allowed to interact with anyone. I'm there strictly as an observer."

Jongdae raises his eyebrows. "You're serious about this, then? This isn't a joke?"

"We've got three trips scheduled—2002, 2004, and 2009." Junmyeon brushes aside the hem of Jongdae's t-shirt to thumb the jut of his hipbone, eyes reproachful. "To study the Roh presidency. It's a test run before we start getting into the really interesting stuff—you know, wars, major historical events like that. We're starting with 2009 first. In case..." He trails off, sighing. He doesn't want to say it.

"In _case_?" Jongdae prompts.

"In case something goes wrong, we're not totally stranded." Junmyeon avoids Jongdae's incredulous gaze. "Seoul National University had just started to research time travel at that point—we'd be able to cobble something together and get back fairly easily."

Jongdae exhales noisily and rubs his hand over his face. "What's the likelihood of that?" he asks after a moment.

"Next to impossible," Junmyeon assures him. "Deviations from travel time have been miniscule. Hours, at the most. The worst that could happen is that I'll be late for dinner."

Jongdae laughs. "That's nothing new."

Junmyeon's fingers find the spaces between Jongdae's. "Thanks," he murmurs affectionately. "I knew you'd understand how important this was to me."

 

**December 23 2015**

Junmyeon volunteers to sleep on the couch that night but Jongdae won't hear of it. "Come to bed, hyung," he says tiredly. "I've slept alone long enough."

Junmyeon takes great care unbuttoning Jongdae's shirt and smoothing it off his shoulders. Jongdae hooks his elbows under Junmyeon's arms and pulls him close, breathing in against the hollow of his throat. "You're really here, right?" he whispers into Junmyeon's skin.

"I'm really here."

Junmyeon can't sleep, though. He lies awake, Jongdae's face buried in the nape of his neck. _Deviation was only supposed to be twelve hours,_ he thinks. _What happened? We checked the math three times._ And then: _His colleagues. Our friends. They think I skipped out on him._

He winces. He hadn't even had time to buy Jongdae a Christmas present before he left. There'd been too much to prepare for, too much to get ready. He'd hoped to be back sooner than this.

 

**October 3 2014**

"Jongdae? I just got in. I went to meet you at work—they said you'd called in?" Junmyeon pushes the door shut behind him. "You feeling okay?"

The lights are off but Junmyeon can hear movement in the bedroom, the heavy rustling of the down comforter. A moment later the door grates open and Jongdae peers out, face swollen. He's been crying. "Oh my God. You—you're back," he blubbers, fist pressing up against his mouth to force back a quiet sob.

" _Jongdae._ I told you I'd be back." Junmyeon frowns. "Why are you so upset? Is this why you took off from work?"

"I was so _worried_. I couldn't concentrate." Jongdae sniffles. "You—where have you been?"

"2009. You knew that," Junmyeon says slowly. "I told you. Roh's death. It was—" He runs his hands through his hair. He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't like this part of the job. He wants to tell Jongdae about nearly getting fired for wanting to interfere but somehow it doesn't seem like the right time, not when his boyfriend's clearly upset. "It just was. Let me make you some tea—"

"Hyung. Have you—did you not—don't you—" Jongdae hiccups, unable to spit it out.

Junmyeon cradles Jongdae's jaw between his palms. "Hey. I'm here, safe and sound. What's wrong?"

"It's _Friday_ ," Jongdae sobs.

Junmyeon's blood runs cold. The computer said they'd arrive home right on schedule: September 29. A Monday. No significant time deviations. "Friday?" he asks faintly. "It's October already?"

"You're almost a week late."

 

**December 5 2014**

"I don't want you to go."

"Jongdae."

"No, seriously, I've changed my mind." Jongdae sticks out his jaw defiantly. "If you go, I'm going to call Baekhyun."

"So we're both going to go back in time?" Junmyeon zips up his backpack and looks up. "Jagiya. Be reasonable."

Jongdae crosses his arms in front of his chest like he's hugging himself. "You only call me that when you want me to stop arguing with you."

"It works, doesn't it?" Junmyeon rests his hands on Jongdae's hips and leans forward to bridge the gap between their mouths. He waits an agonizingly long time before he moves to deepen the kiss, running his tongue along the plump curve of Jongdae's lower lip until his jaw drops open in a low whine.

"Now I really don't want you to go." Jongdae pouts when they break apart, breathless. "What am I going to do for a whole week without you?"

"It's only seven days." Junmyeon smiles gently. "It'll fly by. You won't even notice I'm gone."

 

**April 5 2013**

"A historian, huh?" Jongdae looks intrigued. It's their third date and Junmyeon's already smitten. Jongdae's got an infectious laugh, a wicked sense of humor, and a jawline that looks sharp enough to cut one of the diamonds he works with. "Sounds boring." He winks slyly and steals a sip of Junmyeon's wine when he knows Junmyeon's watching. Junmyeon beams.

To be honest, he hadn't thought much of going out with a jeweler. Chanyeol had set up the initial blind date: _"I have a friend—we were in high school together. He went to art school for goldsmithing and he works with diamonds now. He's great, hyung, I really think you two will hit it off."_ Junmyeon knows he's not supposed to get involved with anyone if he wants to be part of the historical expedition team, but Jongdae's eyes are very kind and his hand fits perfectly in Junmyeon's and he thinks, _just this once, I will allow myself to have everything that I want._

Junmyeon makes a mental note to send Chanyeol a fruit basket to thank him.

"Used to be. Ever since Oxford developed a way to turn historians into primary sources, it's become a really exciting field to work for."

"I don't have a clue what you just said, but you're really handsome and I'm not going to be able to concentrate on anything until I kiss you. Is that okay?" Jongdae says, the entire string of words tumbling out of his mouth in one breath.

"Here? In public?" Junmyeon looks around, worried there's a colleague lurking at a nearby table to snap his picture and send it back to the department head. The restaurant's empty. They're the last couple left. "I—don't know." 

"Well, I do," Jongdae says smoothly, thumb anchored against the pulse in Junmyeon's wrist as he leans forward to claim Junmyeon's mouth over their empty dinner plates.

 

**December 24 2015**

It's almost noon by the time Jongdae rouses himself and pads barefoot into the living room, eyelids still heavy with sleep. "Hyung?" His voice crackles from disuse. "I woke up—and you were gone—and I thought—"

Junmyeon looks up from the kitchen counter he's scrubbing and offers him an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I couldn't sleep any longer knowing this was on the other side of the door."

Jongdae chuckles, fists rubbing at his eyes. "You haven't changed at all."

Junmyeon lets that remark pass without comment. "Chanyeol called."

Jongdae stiffens. "He—what did he say?"

"He was surprised to hear me answer the phone." He chuckles. "He's learned some new insults since last we spoke."

Jongdae sighs. "I'm sorry, I honestly thought—when one week turned into two, turned into a month—"

"Hey. It's okay," Junmyeon says, peeling off the yellow rubber gloves he's been wearing. His hands are pruny with moisture. "What were you supposed to say? You're not—nobody's supposed to know." _We're not supposed to be together,_ he thinks. _There wasn't supposed to be anybody who would miss me._

"What—what's next?" Jongdae asks, dropping his body into his seat at the kitchen table.

"Next? I was thinking about grocery shopping."

"No—I mean—"

"Ah. That." Junmyeon isn't sure what to say. He nods his head towards a packet of paper at the corner of the table. "Your Christmas present. I'm sorry, I didn't have time to wrap it."

"What's this?" Jongdae squints. "Junmyeon. You got me a university contract."

"No, that's mine." Junmyeon draws a deep breath. He's not ready for this, but he's not sure Jongdae will stick around until he is. He understands now that there are things that scare him more than getting stranded in the past without a way to get back. He's not sure he'd even want to come back if it wasn't to this apartment, to this life, to Jongdae. "I got you a paper shredder."

 

**December 23 2016**

"Wait—go back." Junmyeon snatches the remote out of Jongdae's hand and flicks through the channels with an impatient thumb. "They were talking about SNU."

"You really think that's a good idea?" Jongdae asks, sliding a hand down Junmyeon's knee.

_"...after numerous trial expeditions, Seoul National University is proud to announce the development of a brand-new doctoral program for Primary Historians..."_

Jongdae retrieves the remote and turns off the television. The apartment is quiet, the ticking of a clock in the bedroom dull and steady through the walls.

"You alright?" he asks finally, hand anchored to Junmyeon's leg. Junmyeon shakes his head to snap out of his daze and musters a grin.

"I'm fine." He tugs Jongdae's hand up to his mouth. The tiny hairs on the back of Jongdae's fingers tickle Junmyeon's lips. Jongdae flexes his fingertips against the smooth skin of Junmyeon's cheek in response.

"I know you really wanted to be a part of that."

"I realized that there were things I wanted more," Junmyeon counters. It's true: he was fascinated by the past, but he's more grateful for the present. This, right now—the curve of Jongdae's thumb that fits snugly against his chin, the warm glint in Jongdae's eyes as he stares up at Junmyeon's face, rapt with fondness. Junmyeon's not interested in going backwards anymore—he's looking straight ahead into tomorrow, next week, next year. Calendars full of mornings waking up to the sunlight licking Jongdae's cheekbones. "I'm fine," he repeats, face softening into a smile. "I'm home."

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted to kpop-ficmix@lj 2013 for gdragon_ism@lj. idea of historians as time travelers inspired by connie willis' university of oxford novels.


End file.
